


It's Written All Over Your Face

by goodmorning



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: ...because i love her, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Writing on Skin, no further questions, only it's not really a soulmate AU, the system is damn weird so buckle in, this is that AU where Hilary Knight is Shitty's sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorning/pseuds/goodmorning
Summary: "Bitty doesn’t have a lot of marks on him. It’s not like he doesn’t know why."
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 10
Kudos: 166





	It's Written All Over Your Face

Bitty doesn’t have a lot of marks on him. It’s not like he doesn’t know why.

And if he has to wake up early every morning of high school to put concealer on the five greyscale marks from 7th grade, ash and charcoal and licorice, well, that’s just how life is. ( _No._ one of their foreheads had said the next day, large and clear and stark, and all Bitty could hope was that Coach wouldn’t recognize that handwriting on his star tight end’s face or, supposedly, the star quarterback’s left hip. He’s not particularly interested in confirming that one, though.)

He’s not sad or anything; he does have some nice marks. His parents each have his red baby splotch - babies love, even pre-language - and he has their words to him in return. _My sweet boy._ it says on his bicep in a neater version of the script he’s grown up with in his mama’s recipe box, the color of summer strawberries, sweet and ripe. _My son._ it says on the tricep opposite in the exact same scrawl he’s grown up with in X and O and QB, the color of fresh blood from a clean cut. (Coach likes to claim it’s UGA crimson. 

It’s not.)

He used to have some friend marks, children’s scrawls of _let’s play_ and _wanna be friends?_ in grape-jelly purple. If he has any now, he sure as heck can’t see them. (Sixth grade was the last time he remembers anyone claiming to have one on him. He couldn’t see it, though, because his mark on the other boy was blue as a summer sky.

That boy couldn’t see Bitty’s mark on him either.

Bitty’s pretty sure his inability to reciprocate the purple one was one of the things that led to the closet incident.)

Figure skating ends up too lonely and too othering, so Bitty takes up hockey. It doesn’t seem to make a difference. No purple marks ever become visible to him, no _nice shot!_ or _wow, he’s fast._ Nobody wants to be his friend. 

(Or, possibly, Bitty is too afraid to be friends with anyone. Not like he’ll ever know.)

But Samwell will be different; three of his greyscale marks have faded already in the face of his new fearlessness. Samwell will be different because he doesn’t think he’ll get new ones. Samwell will give him the real possibility of a blue one. (Sometimes he daydreams about what shade it’ll be, what words his future boyfriend will say when he realizes Bitty would be amazing to date, and just the fact that he’s letting himself have this fantasy makes him feel more optimistic than he has in years.)

The first mark he gets at Samwell, or, at least, the first mark anyone tells him about, isn’t blue.

But it’s also not grey.

“Brah!” Shitty says at his usual inside volume, which is not actually suited to inside at all and would probably get The Disapproving Look from Bitty’s mama, “I’m on your foot!” 

Bitty takes off his other skate before checking his foot, because he doesn’t need to lose a toe. He doesn’t see anything. 

But he also doesn’t see a blue mark on Shitty, which is a huge relief, and he can be sure about it because Shitty’s naked a lot. Lots of purple, more than most people probably have, Bitty thinks. Hilary’s _Can we keep him?_ in tiny script, his own eye color, on his left cheek, and another green mark hidden on his inner thigh that Bitty feels too uncomfortable to try to read. No blue at all, and no mark of Bitty’s.

No red, either. (But the strawberry colored mark on his own arm accidentally inspires what turns out to be Shitty’s favorite pie, and maybe one day Bitty will make it and summon the courage to ask if there’s anything he can do to make things suck slightly less.

Shitty will tell him the pie already does.)

So maybe Samwell’s different in a lot of ways; that doesn’t really seem to matter. It’s the same in the only way that really seems to count - Bitty is still afraid. By the time winter rolls around, most of the team has told him about their marks on him, all over his legs and back and arms. He can’t see a single one.

At least the last two grey marks are gone now, and he no longer has to cover up hateful words about _closets_ and _queers_ before he goes to practice.

But then there’s yet another way Samwell is the same as Georgia, because the first new mark Bitty can see on his own skin is black as a cat in a coal mine. And, just like before, it’s from a teammate.

He guesses it’s still a little different; this one hurts so much worse. Not physically - those ones had felt like fire burning across his skin, and this one’s not much worse than a muscle cramp - but mentally, because he respects Jack, because he had such high hopes for Samwell, because he’s so tired of only having his parents’ red.

_It was a lucky shot._ is written in tiny letters above his left collarbone.

_Oh._ it says in tiny letters over Jack’s right eyebrow.

The next day he gets out the concealer, only to find that the words are already gone. (Trying to figure out what could have changed Jack’s mind just hours after he hated Bitty so much it left a mark drives Bitty up the wall, but he refuses to ask about it.)

_Oh._ disappears from Jack’s face two days later.

Bitty picks Shitty to come out to for three reasons: first, because he knows a lot about sexuality and doesn’t seem even a little bit inclined to homophobia; second, because he just seems like a good listener who won’t get distracted halfway through; third, because he was the first friendship mark Bitty got here at Samwell, and that means something even if he can’t actually see it yet.

“I’m gay,” says Bitty, and Shitty doesn’t freak out. It feels amazing.

“Why the hell did that take the entire semester?” says Bitty, and at least thirteen places on his legs and back and arms start to tingle, but he’s pretty sure the bottom of his foot - Shitty’s - started a split second sooner than the rest.

When he gets back to his dorm it’s the one he checks first, anyway.

_You’re a dude from the South and you’re not a bigoted dickfaced cockhole!_ it says, the color of a ripening plum, and it’s been a long time since Shitty said that to him, he knows. Most of the rest of the marks, all in various shades of purple, are about pies, but they’re purple all the same. (So maybe he cries a little bit about having friends; it’s not like any of them would mind, after all.)

He comes out to the rest of the team the next day and nobody’s weird about it, and when he tells them that he’s _Why the hell did that take the entire semester?_ they pile on him for a celly bigger than the one for his first goal.

His mark on Holster and Ransom (whose words, on his right elbow, are an argument about Ransom’s aunt’s house that Bitty definitely wasn’t present for) is fairly close to their marks for each other. They take it as a sign that they should be extra-close to him, apparently, or maybe they just want to improve their pie chances now that so many people have a claim on Bitty. Either way, they’re nearby a lot, and it’s nice having people around him all the time who care without being motivated by kinship.

( _Ransom and Holster!_ is written on each of their chests in bright yellow. (The internet says fewer than a thousand people have yellow marks and nobody really knows what they mean, but it doesn’t seem to bother them much.))

And it’s good to be in a place where he has friends, has team, people who love him no matter what. And spring semester rolls around with another new mark ( _Hey. Name’s Lardo._ shows up in dark eggplant on his left forearm right as _Well goodness gracious, it’s a pleasure to meet you!_ wraps around her right). And the team is actually winning pretty often, and Bitty is getting points, and everything seems just about as close to perfect as he ever imagined it could be, except - 

Except for one thing - he doesn’t have a mark on him from Jack.

And yeah, it’s better not to have one than to have his hate or fear or jealousy, but it still hurts. Jack’s the captain, and Bitty just wants to feel accepted already, but something somewhere in his brain keeps hitching at the thought that maybe the team’s heart and arms and legs and every other part are sold on him already, but the head, the most important part, just won’t do it. 

What’s even more frustrating is the fact that he can see his own friendship mark on the back of Jack’s neck - _Jack hates my guts._ in fresh-bruise purple - so he knows for sure Jack isn’t reciprocating. But, then again, Jack is Jack. He doesn’t have many marks to begin with. Bitty is always careful not to look at anyone too much in the locker room, a habit that’s been ingrained too well for too many years, but Jack tends to pace before he settles in to get dressed, and Bitty’s seen it all.

Jack has four marks Bitty can see, besides his own: one for each of his parents, _He has your eyes._ in Habs red and, _My perfect boys._ in Samwell red, respectively; one from Shitty, which, against a slew of scientific studies, is the improbably grass-green _Clothing is the oppressive tool of the capitalist state, brah_ ; and one from Lardo in a pale lavender that simply says, _I assumed this was just his personality._ The rest of his skin is as blank as Shitty is colorful, except for a spot on his back right below his heart, where everyone knows a mark must live because he always keeps it covered.

And, well, Bitty knows a thing or two about marks like that. So he tries not to let it weigh on him.

(Out with a concussion, he doesn’t feel the quick flick of _Bitty._ move tiny and frightened and guilty over his split and battered cheek.)

He does feel _Eat more protein._ brushing onto his lower back like a feather, but it’s already almost gone by the time he gets a chance to look. Still, it’s something to take into the summer, to feel good about while he shops for curtains for the Haus and dreams of serving the first pie of the new season. And when the new season comes around, _Head up, all right?_ lasts almost as long and almost as purple as the bruise on his butt that he gets from literally running into Jack and an AGM.

And then it happens. They’re in the kitchen and they’re baking and Jack is laughing and joking about where he’s going to play hockey and Bitty throws a little bit of flour at him and - well. 

The next time they’re in the locker room, six words are emblazoned, for Bitty’s eyes alone, in giant electric blue letters across Jack’s chest: 

_Never fall for a straight boy._

Bitty feels so guilty he almost looks away, but something catches his eye - Jack isn’t wearing his patch for once. And in messy slate-colored letters, right on the borderline of blue and grey and impossible to tell which, are three little words:

_...I miss you._

May comes too quickly, runners-up and awards banquet and Jack kissing the ice one last time, glorious afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows to wash Samwell’s favorite son in sparkling warmth over the cold. And then it’s only warm, an outdoor graduation and the bittersweet sensations of pride and loss, half-fake smiles plastered on faces that will never stop having hope.

Sun and grass, families and diplomas, the Pond and the well. This is where Bitty is meant to let it out. This is where Bitty is ready to face his own feelings head-on. This is where Bitty will actually try and make his own happy ending.

(This is where Bitty chickens out.)

Bitty is numb, crying, hating himself for being such a coward, trying not to feel like he missed his last chance, drowning himself in Beyoncé. He doesn’t feel the warm tickle at his throat, doesn’t hear Jack burst in shouting his name, but somehow they’re kissing and nothing matters but warm lips on his, Jack panting like he got stuck on the ice on a long penalty kill. Bitty melts into it.

“I’ll text you,” says Jack, dashing off again, and Bitty has to sit and settle himself for longer than he’d like to admit before he manages to look in the mirror.

On a sensitive bit of his neck, right where a hickey might be if he’d ever gotten around to actually getting one, is _Oh._ in the neatest and tiniest letters Bitty’s ever seen, the color of Jack’s eyes against the late-spring graduation skies.

And the tingle on his neck becomes a tingle in his heart as Bitty thinks, _oh._

_Oh._

Later he'll worry about what to do over summer break, whether to cover it up or lie or just hope his parents don't notice it's even there, but for now all he can do is stare at his own reflection in wonder, touching his lips and his soft blue mark in turn, a cycle of glorious disbelief. His own breath stirring over his hand, the warmth of his own tears running down his face, the chill they leave on drying, is all there is to remind him that he’s here, and alive, and everything he’s ever wanted is right here for him to reach out and touch.

His phone buzzes with beautiful potential; Bitty picks it up and, smiling, responds to the man he knows loves him with the kind of love that leaves an indelible mark.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Note essay ahoy!  
> \- Am I supposed to be writing a Kings fic instead of this? Yes.  
> \- Originally I started this fic in a notebook around when I wrote my other Check, Please! fics (January 2016?). It got transferred into a Google Doc in May 2016 and abandoned until three weeks ago, when I finally had the time and inclination to finish it.  
> \- The title is from Halo, because of course it is. Has someone used it already? I'd be shocked if they hadn't.  
> \- Fic questions:  
> \-- **What the hell is this AU?** Basic rules: You give a mark when you have a strong feeling about someone (or when you allow yourself to believe the feeling or vocalize it). You can see your mark on others (first words after you feel the feeling, in the handwriting of the feel-er). They (and others) can’t see it unless it’s reciprocated and vice-versa. Marks aren’t always on matching body parts.  
> \-- **What are the colors?**  
>  \--- Red = parental affection (& guardians, grandparents, aunts/uncles, even in-laws if you're close enough)  
> \--- Green = sibling affection (born or raised, & cousins, in-laws)  
> \--- Purple = friend affection (it's just as valid as familial and romantic love, folks)  
> \--- Blue = romantic affection (can include requited crushes that are never acted on)  
> \--- Black/Grey/White = strong negative emotion (hate, fear, etc)  
> \--- Yellow = ???????  
> \-- **Why doesn't Shitty have red marks?** In this AU there are a couple explanations: either his parents don't love him, he doesn't love them, or both.  
> \-- **Why doesn't he have a blue mark?** My headcanon for this is that he's loved Lardo for a long time, but she didn't reciprocate (or admit it to herself) until ~graduation, either when he got the Harvard news, when she gave him the Chop, or at graduation itself.  
> \-- **Why is it weird that Shitty and Jack have green words for each other?** Scientifically speaking, green marks are a familial mark, and friends with no family ties between them rarely have anything other than purple.  
> \-- **Bitty has thirteen marks?** Well, a collegiate hockey team has ~25 members or so, and Bitty is a friendly sort.  
> \-- **Jack has a mark from Lardo?** She decided she wanted to be friends with him because he was friends with Shitty and the dichotomy was fascinating. He decided he wanted to be friends with her because she was friends with Shitty and Shitty was his only friend.  
> \-- **Jack has a mark from Kent? Is it blue or grey?** Yes he does and yes it is.  
> \-- **Why are Kent's words the same as at Epikegster?** ...Possibly they're the same as the ones he said when he finally saw Jack again for the first time after the OD and he deliberately threw them right in his face again to cause maximum pain?  
> \-- **Ransom and Holster!?** Ransom and Holster!.


End file.
